I have been lent a book “Railway to Heaven” by Matthew Woodward, predominately, a rail explorer who has written about his travels in a much more detailed and fascinating way than I have managed to in my blogs. Just out of interest, I googled the list of countries of the world in alphabetical order and I count 52/3 that I have either set foot into, or travelled through by rail. I have not included Egypt, despite having sailed north along the Suez Canal on at least three occasions. And, I am not sure I can count Lichtenstein which I seem to remember passing through on a train from Paris to Naples back in the 80s. Nevertheless, over 50 countries leaves me content with the satisfaction of “not having wasted my life”.
I had promised myself to embark for the umpteenth time on an exercise regime, i.e. walking somewhere every day, whatever the weather. And, in the first week, I did very well, achieving my steps target on six out of seven days. Unfortunately, towards the end of that period, I allowed myself an excess of double cream with my strawberries, and it took around three days for my stomach to absolve me entirely of my gastronomic misdemeanors. Weight loss was thus slightly easier than planned! Enthusiasm to resume walking in the second week was dampened by a worsening right knee condition. So, for the first two days, I wore a bandage style knee support glove like garment. This actually seemed to work, and although not completely sorted, walking is far easier once again.
Retirement during lockdown continues to be a learning curve, including an element of self-discovery. However much I enjoy finding the most wonderful beauty spots almost on my doorstep, there is always that reluctance to leave the comfort of one’s own home. There’s always a ton of stuff to do, and I do manage a little bit most days. No end of “things” contrive to prevent me from venturing forth. It was with such reluctance that both Roger and I “made the effort” on Friday. And our endeavours were very well rewarded. I had expressed a wish not to climb hills on this afternoon’s trip. (I really didn’t want to incur the wrath of my right knee again!) We drove out to the site of Hartington Station, where just the signal box survives in its new guise as a refreshment outlet and information centre. Needless to say, it was closed! Having parked up and got our bearings, we proceeded south along the track bed of the former L.N.W.R. line from Buxton to Ashbourne and beyond. With (as far as I can ascertain) no more than four trains per day each way, even its heyday, I guess the line was primarily for the transport of agricultural and mineral produce. Nevertheless, I do have original elaborate publicity material promoting the Buxton to Ashbourne line as a rare opportunity to visit with far greater ease, the one-time remote almost “untouched” parts of the Derbyshire Dales.
Although I had actually cycled along here thirty five years ago, I had forgotten almost completely how much more dramatic the countryside became two miles south of Parsley Hay.
The idea was to walk to the hamlet of Heathcote, which Freda Willis assures me is pronounced “Hethkit”! We would walk along the old railway until we reached a footpath on the right, signposted accordingly. “Hethkit” was reached crossing numerous picturesque fields populated by curious cattle who, thankfully, left us in peace, despite having to walk close by to them. My agility (or lack thereof) and ability to tackle styles remains an embarrassment. But even in my younger days, there was never a time that I could negotiate styles with any kind of fluency.
Once back in the car, I asked Roger if he knew of an alternative route home. He didn’t disappoint. “Prepare for lots of gates” he instructed as we drove through the attractive and now upscale village of Hartington. I can’t remember the route’s identification number, but soon, we were on this remote narrow road, primarily a cycle route. Perhaps just thirteen miles from home, more remarkable “out-of-the-way” and remote scenery where cattle show no concern whatsoever at traffic which is trying to get through. The only thing is, if one was in any kind of hurry, this was surely not a sensible route to take home. We both had “all the time in the world”, except by now, I could do with a loo. Nature provided suitable cover!
In the evening, a former neighbour who was once of invaluable assistance in my D.J-ing days, was back in Buxton to cycle the High Peak Trail. Even though he now lives in Bournemouth, we remain in touch quite frequently, and when in town, we usually catch up over dinner! I introduced him to the Parks, and like me, was suitably impressed.
Yesterday, Saturday, was splendid. I did very little, but I thoroughly enjoyed donning a set of rather expensive headphones, purchased last year at Singapore Airport, plugging them into this device and listening to vintage Dire Straits and live Pink Floyd. The sun shone and made myself comfortable on the settee with the patio doors wide open….I was “away with the fairies…” The superb sound quality justified the extravagance of these high end headphones; it was as if I was actually back at the concert hall in 1981 and 1985. So, that was how I spent my time, yesterday. During that time, when my very being had been teleported to a 1981 Wembley Stadium, I was brought back to the 21st century by the almost inaudible sound of my landline. It was a gentleman from the West Country to confirm my order for a photograph of a locomotive I have had an almost lifelong interest in. I have requested photographs of other locomotives I am also interested in, and we reminisced for nearly an hour about what have become long since days of yore…1965 anyway. After the call, it was back to Dire Straits and Pink Floyd until around midnight.
Today, Sunday 9th August, I tuned once again into Radio 4’s Sunday Worship. This was a veritable nod to “Black Lives Matter”, all the participants being “non white”. There was a sincerity which shone with conviction; I was moved as if I had heard Vaughan Williams’ Old Hundredth for the first time, live! I was disillusioned with their accounts of the earlier church siding with slavery, and I recall being similarly disgusted during a theology course covering the history of the church. But this afternoon, I would join church colleagues for lunch at the Parks. And afterwards, they would join me for coffee in my sun trap of a back garden. It was all highly enjoyable and most convivial. After that, I would go over the road for more tea and a natter.
For some reason, as the sun set behind the surrounding hills tonight, I had a rare urge to go for a walk. This I thoroughly enjoyed as those distant surrounding hills dulled in the gathering twilight. I was not desirous of an evening meal. Those distant hills looked magnificent as they gradually silhouetted against the darkening sky. At this time of year, if the weather is agreeable, dusk around here takes on a rare ambiance.
I started writing this on Friday, continued a little yesterday and this morning, and finished tonight at 23.59 hrs. I am ready for a plate of porridge prior to retiring to bed. I am warned that this lovely weather will be short lived. Never mind, there’s a mountain of stuff to deal with at home.
Thanks for reading,
David.
David's Cruise 